


Alternatives

by A Magiluna Stormwriter (ariestess)



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, Criminal Minds, The Division (TV), The Sentinel, The X-Files
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Community: cm_bigbang, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-01
Updated: 2012-08-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 19:57:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/665849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariestess/pseuds/A%20Magiluna%20Stormwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New to the BAU, Emily Prentiss soon finds herself the focus of another, more unusual FBI team known as the Sentinel Project. Will she keep her hard-won position on the BAU team or transfer to this other team?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Last Word

**Author's Note:**

> Date Written: 1 June - 1 August 2012  
> Word Count: 15667  
> Written for: [](http://cm-bigbang.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://cm-bigbang.livejournal.com/)**cm_bigbang** 2012  
>  Artist: [](http://caitriona-3.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://caitriona-3.livejournal.com/)**caitriona_3**  
>  Link to art: <http://caiti-icons.livejournal.com/13123.html>  
> Summary: New to the BAU, Emily Prentiss soon finds herself the focus of another, more unusual FBI team known as the Sentinel Project. Will she keep her hard-won position on the BAU team or transfer to this other team?  
> Spoilers: All of Emily's storyline, to be safe, but specifically for episodes 02x09 "The Last Word", 02x10 "Lessons Learned", 02x13 "No Way Out", and minorly for episode 02x11 "Sex, Birth, Death".  
> Warnings: No standard warnings apply.  
> Website: ShatterStorm Productions – Frisked & Conquered  
> Link to: <http://f-n-c.shatterstorm.net/>  
> Archive: ShatterStorm Productions & AO3 only…all others ask for permission & we'll see…
> 
> Author’s Disclaimer: "Criminal Minds", the characters, and situations depicted are the property of CBS Productions, Touchstone Television, The Mark Gordon Company, and ABC Studios. "CSI: Crime Scene Investigators," the characters, and situations depicted are the property of Jerry Bruckheimer Television, Alliance Atlantis, and CBS Productions. "The Division", the characters, and situations depicted are the property of Lifetime Television, Kedzie Productions, Viacom Productions, and Paramount. "The Sentinel", the characters, and situations depicted are the property of Paramount Television, Pet Fly Productions, and United Paramount Network (UPN). "The X-Files," the character, and situations depicted are the property of Chris Carter, Twentieth Century Fox Television, Ten Thirteen Productions, etc. All original characters belong to the Light, Water, Muses universe of ShatterStorm Productions and are the creations of A. Magiluna Stormwriter and Shatterpath. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. This site is in no way affiliated with "Criminal Minds", "CSI", "The Division", "The Sentinel", "The X-Files", CBS, Lifetime, UPN, Fox, or any representative of the actors.
> 
> Author’s Notes: Oh, where do we even start? LOL! This story was originally all [](http://cuspofqueens.livejournal.com/profile)[**cuspofqueens**](http://cuspofqueens.livejournal.com/) ' fault for trying to get us to add _Criminal Minds_ into [LWM](http://lwm.shatterstorm.net/) a few years back. Neither of us were really watching the show at the time, then [](http://ariestess.dreamwidth.org/profile)[](http://ariestess.dreamwidth.org/)**ariestess** started watching it again a couple years back and the seeds were planted for what would eventually would become the story you see here. We had so many plans for this whole saga, and we're not anywhere near finished with Agent Prentiss yet. There will be more beyond this story, have no fear. And hopefully in less time than it took for this original story to finally get written. The worst is over, and now the fun stuff begins.
> 
> Dedication: Our muses, as always. We'd be nowhere without them.
> 
> Betas: Many, many thanks to [](http://luscious-words.livejournal.com/profile)[**luscious_words**](http://luscious-words.livejournal.com/) & [](http://clare-dragonfly.dreamwidth.org/profile)[](http://clare-dragonfly.dreamwidth.org/)**clare_dragonfly** for deciphering and editing our frantic, frenetic scribblings.

++ Agent Emily Prentiss ++

(11-15-06)

Standing outside Agent Hotchner's office, my heart is racing in my chest. Finally, after so many attempts, I am part of the BAU team. This is more than a dream come true. And my mother didn't do anything to pave the way, either. That, more than anything else, makes this opportunity all the sweeter.

Taking a deep, calming breath, I knock on the door and step in when he answers. The confusion on his face gives me pause, but I set my box aside and barrel on anyway. Maybe my name will help trigger his memory.

"I'm Agent Emily Prentiss."

"How do you do?" he asks, stretching his hand out toward me. And then I see recognition dawning in his dark eyes. "Oh! You're, uh, Ambassador Prentiss' daughter. I did security clearance for your mother's staff. Uh, it was one of my first commands. Yeah, I believe you were off to Brown at the time."

Smiling at his error, I politely correct him. "Actually, it was Yale."

"Ah."

He's still not completely with the program yet. Damn!

"I've been in the Bureau for almost ten years now."

That makes him grin ruefully. "Don't tell me that. Has it been that long?"

"Apparently, sir," I reply, grinning at his discomfort at the passing of time. "But I worked mostly in the Midwest, St. Louis, Chicago…"

"Good, good." I read it on his face when decorum sets in. "Your parents well?"

"Ah, yeah, they're great."

"Excellent. What can I do for you?"

He still doesn't get it? I thought he was the lead on this team. "Uh, well, I -- I guess I was hoping you could tell me where to put my stuff."

"I'm sorry?"

"I'm supposed to start here today at the BAU," I say, handing him my file.

He scans the file and his face hardens at my words. "There's been a mistake."

"I don't think so, sir."

"There's definitely been a mistake," he continues, as if I haven't spoken at all.

A knock at the door puts an effective pause on our conversation. "Oh, excuse me," comes a woman's voice as I turn to see who it is interrupting us. My breath catches in my throat as I look into the bluest eyes I've ever seen. It takes just a second or two before her name comes to mind: Jennifer Jareau, the communications liaison. "We're getting started."

"Thank you," Agent Hotchner replies, breaking the spell I seem to have fallen under in those few seconds. "I'll be right there." He pauses only long enough for Jareau to walk away, then returns his gaze to me. "I didn't approve this transfer, Agent Prentiss. I'm sorry for the confusion, but you were misinformed." He steps around his desk. "Excuse me. Uh, it's very good to see you again."

"Uh…"

And he's gone before I can say anything else. I grab my box and step out into the hallway to… I'm not sure what I intended to do as I started following him out of his office. I can't help but stare at Agent Hotchner as he walks away, clutching my box of belongings to my body. How can he just blithely turn down my request, when the transfer's already been approved?

He pauses to speak with another man walking out of an office further down the hall. This time, recognition is easier. This would be Agent Jason Gideon, one of the first and best profilers in the FBI. I start feeling more than a little self-conscious as they keep turning back to stare at me while they talk.

My temporary paralysis is lifted when they step into the conference room at the opposite end of the hall. The finality of the door clicking shut sounds as sharp as a gunshot, even at this distance. I did not work this hard for this long just to be blithely turned down like that. I earned this transfer, and I intend to make Agent Aaron Hotchner realize that, no matter what it takes.

+++++

I have been sitting in Agent Hotchner's office all day, waiting for him to come back and let me make another attempt at getting him to understand that there was no mistake about my transfer. But he hasn't materializes. It's well past the end of business hours, and none of the team -- my new team -- have made any sort of appearance either. Clearly they've left on a case. That's fine. I can wait him out.

"Oh my god!"

The sound of a startled voice brings me out of my thoughts to stare at the woman standing just inside the doorway. Medium height, slightly heavyset -- zaftig is the word, I think? -- with bottle blonde hair tied up in little anime buns on her head, and sporting clothes in a set of bright colors that nearly make my eyes ache.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?"

I don't bother to stand. Better to keep her feeling as safe as possible against my potential threat. "I'm Agent Emily Prentiss. I was assigned to the BAU and was supposed to start today."

Confusion wrinkles her forehead as she stares at me. "I never heard anything about a transfer to the team. I'll have to check on that," she says softly, then shakes her head and smiles as she sticks out her hand to me. "Penelope Garcia, technical goddess extraordinaire. Welcome to the team."

"Thank you, Penelope," I say, standing to shake her hand.

"Nope, call me Garcia. Everybody does. Well, except for Morgan, but that's different." There's the slightest blush to her cheeks at the mention of Agent Derek Morgan's name. Interesting. "So if you're supposed to be on the team, why are you sitting here in the dark in Hotch's office? Shouldn't you be out working the case with them?"

Here we go… "Apparently, Agent Hotchner said the transfer was a mistake and not approved. I'm waiting for him to come back so I can take another stab at convincing him that this wasn't a mistake at all."

She nods slowly and chews at her lower lip for a few seconds, then grabs my hand again. "Come with me," she says as she starts heading out of the office.

I'm helpless to do anything but follow in her wake as she navigates the corridors to what appears to be her own office. The tech support has her own office? Fascinating. Garcia settles into her chair in front of a bank of monitors and keyboards, pointing imperiously at a second chair. I sink down into the chair as she begins to type, windows popping up on the screens in front of her, and mutters to herself. At one point, I will swear I see my own picture flash across her screen, but it's gone so quickly that I can't verify my supposition.

After several moments of this silence, I clear my throat. "Um, Garcia? I should go back up to Hotch's office. What if he comes back?"

"Oh, they won't be back until the case is resolved," she says, not stopping what she's doing.

"But my stuff?"

"If it's in Hotch's office, it's safe. And if they lock up his office, we can get it opened again to get your stuff. Trust me, you're totally fine." She turns at this point and grins broadly at me. "Besides, I like you, and if the Goddess likes you, you're all good."

I don't bother to hide my laughter, and she soon joins me as she returns to her rapid typing. After several moments of trying, and failing, to read all of the information streaming across her monitors, I just sit back and soak in the atmosphere of the room. I've seen rooms decorated with all of the owner's favorite things like this before, but usually college dorm rooms, not an office in one of the FBI's departments. But it's pretty clear that this Garcia is not your typical FBI employee, either.

I listen in as she fields a call from the team and begins to do her technical magic, as she calls it. The woman is certainly brilliant at what she does. It takes everything in me not to laugh out loud at her reactions to Agent Morgan calling her 'baby girl' once or twice. Another piece of the fascinating new puzzle that is Penelope Garcia falls into place.

+++++

(11-16-06)

I'm not even sure why I'm back here today. Garcia's already said that the team won't be back until the case is resolved and promised she'd give me a head's up when they do come back, which she hasn't done yet. But she asked me to come back, so I have. Then again, I'm supposed to be working and it's not like there's anything else I can do here without Agent Hotchner's approval of my transfer, so I'll spend more time with her, help where I can.

"So you need to make sure that you never let Hotch see you hesitate."

Quirking a brow, I stare at her for a moment. "Are you serious?"

"Okay, let me rephrase that. Don't ever let him see you paralyzed with fear. That's also good advice for some of the unsubs they hunt down."

"Well, at least that makes sense. I wouldn't let the unsubs see any fear anyway. They don't need the power."

"Yeah, you have no idea how happy I am that I never have to go out in the field with you guys. It's bad enough having to process information about the unsubs and the victims here. I don't know how any of you do it out in the field."

I shrug, pointedly ignoring the images of Ian Doyle popping up in my mind. "You just do what you have to do, I guess. I went up against some really crazy situations when I was in the Midwest, but I don't know that it's anything like what this team does. I guess I'll find out how I react in the field if I'm ever actually in the field with them."

"You will be," she says with a grin. "Have faith, Emily. I do."

There's such a sense of inevitability in her cheerful voice, it makes me smile. Positive thinking's always been a better motivator than negative thinking. How many times did my mother drill that into me when discussing some of her diplomatic crises and triumphs? And I'm nothing if not my mother's daughter. When Doyle's voice starts to whisper in my head again, I ruthlessly shove that back through the door it's supposed to be locked behind. That's my past. My present is a bit mutable, but the BAU is my future. I know it.

 

++ Penelope Garcia ++

(11-18-06)

 

Humming happily to myself, I do my wizardry, my technomancer juju that makes me such a badass. There's a reason the FBI leaves me the hell alone to do my thing, understanding that a very loose rein makes me far more valuable than trying to control me. And because they give me that, I am loyal and hardworking.

Besides, I get the coolest toys!

Having an audience always helps, making my customarily lonely stage far grander. The new girl is an enigma, which I like. Not only would someone too open get eaten alive by this job, it makes for a boring companion. She's whip smart, alert as a raptor -- bird or dinosaur, take your pick -- and a hell of a good conversationalist.

Even better, she also knows when to shut up. This has enabled me to enjoy her company, but to also get done what I have to get done. And, amusingly, the team has no clue she's even here.

Having just gotten off the phone with Hotch, I'm a little surprised when my phone icon honey-bee dances in the corner of my main screen. A caress of my beloved keys whips up a rapid-fire blast of info and I am delighted to recognize the information. A few more effortless keystrokes open a window that leaps to the screen at my left and blows up near life-size. After a moment for electrons to communicate over 2500 miles, it flickers to life.

"Well hey there, pussycat."

Wearily, my fave wild animal smiles, crinkling up the corners of her feral blue eyes. "Hey, hey, sex-ay," she sing-songs and makes me laugh. Dace is always a riot, a mix of warm humor, affection and danger. Honestly, it's nice to talk to and about someone who's dangerous, but not a danger. Not something I get a whole lot of in this business.

"You looked wiped, Bogart."

Snorting in a very unladylike fashion, Dace scrubs both hands over her face and through that fine, white-blonde hair. I swear she gets more and more bleached out by the harsh Mohave sun every time I speak with her.

"Well yeah! This real job stuff sucks."

Our laughter mingles, crystal clear through my kickin' speakers. "So, your highness" -- the tease about her title earns a dry look -- "what can I do for you? Not that I'm trying to get rid of you, 'cause the boss is out and I can indulge in some rest and relaxation for a bit."

Dace is lost in thought for a moment and I flash a wicked grin at a very curious Emily. Not a peep, mind you, but she radiates wanting to know. But not yet. Let her form her own opinions. Suddenly leaping to her feet, jarring the camera, Dace stretches hugely, an enticing sight even if she's totally not my type.

"R and R is a good idea, PG. Do you mind if I blow some steam off while we chat?"

"Oh, c'mon, big daddy, I’ve got company and that's just kinky."

Heh, don't think I’ve ever gotten that faintly startled look before from this competent woman. "I thought you said your team was out?"

"They are. I've got the new girl in my web. Mwahahahaha, she cannot escape. Say hi, Emily."

With a quick twist of the monitor, I face the camera to my new pal, who gamely waves, doing her best to cover her discomfort. "Hi, Emily," she says readily and I crack up.

"Love ya, toots. So, get steamy all ya want, oh, kingly one."

Rolling her eyes tolerantly, Dace has stripped off her dark jacket and is rolling up the sleeves of her customary blood-red dress shirt. I know the stylized suit is her usual work drag and it bears no comment. But I watch Emily's dark eyes take in the spectacle of my Las Vegas pal, from the striking coloring, to the lithe, feline way she moves, to the carpet of exquisite ink over her scarred right arm that makes me want to meet her face to face just so that I can touch it!

"Nice to meet you, Emily. Any friend of the goddess."

"Likewise."

Padded, martial-arts style gloves are not what I expected Dace to don, but she does and steps across her pleasantly cluttered, classy office. Well, I’ll be a monkey's uncle, there's a workout bag back there! So, she dances around the thing, giving it accurate and practiced hits while she talks.

Real damn shame she's not my type.

 

++ Emily Prentiss ++

While I’m entirely unsurprised that Garcia has unusual friends, this one is certainly unique. There's something extraordinary about her that has nothing to do with the snappy lingo or the tapestry of ink in her skin. I fully admit to curiosity, but hide my emotions behind a pleasant expression.

Curiosity that deepens when her rich voice begins speaking again.

"I went over that file Hotch sent to Mon and I have to say I don't think he's one of mine. Too slick, not enough feral. Unfortunately, I think y'all are dealing with just plain charisma. Which means that I wouldn't be of unusual help for this one. If you get any hard evidence I can scent on, perhaps. In the meantime, the notes your sexy PR made seem accurate enough, but I can't imagine that I could come up with anything your experts wouldn't."

Half of that was gibberish, but the rest of it has me ready to go over and start quizzing the stranger.

"The original is winging its way to ya via courier," she continues and Garcia suddenly jumps in.

"The usual."

"Exactly. But, since your company is clearly chomping at the bit, I’ll zap off a digital as well."

I don't like that. I don't like that at all. No stranger should be able to read me so easily. This Dace walks briskly to her desk, leaning close to the camera, and I hear her tapping at keys. Even over a digital connection, I can see that the bright blue eyes are calculating and far too observant.

The computer clicks and makes a chime I haven't heard yet, Garcia quickly bringing up a file before she reaches for a digital tablet stashed between two monitors. "Have at, o curious one," she grins at me, handing the thing over. While Dace and Garcia banter somewhat flirtatiously, I skim the file, separating out fact and trend and erroneous information.

Damned if the tattooed blonde isn't dead on.

Glancing up, I take a good, hard look at the office she inhabits, automatically categorizing and learning about my target. The furnishings are heavy and expensive, though low-key. The base décor matches that, carefully upholstered walls, wood trim, what looks like real paintings on at least two walls. Layered over that is the personality I've met in this video call, playful and colorful, disorganized and yet everything has a place. There's something very deliberate to the organization, like it's not natural to her, but a learned skill. I am perversely reminded of the Dewey Decimal system and it makes me quirk a small smile.

Even that subtle movement catches the strange woman's eye.

"What did you mean, hard evidence you can scent on?"

Did I just blurt that out?

Even the irrepressible Garcia looks mildly nonplussed by the outburst and I force myself not to clap my hands over my mouth like some recalcitrant toddler. But far more interesting is the stranger's reaction.

I have met monsters in human skin before. They may appear like the rest of us, but they are a breed of their own. But I have never seen that otherworldly energy in someone not amoral and insane.

Until now.

It only lasts a split second, before being shuttered away behind clear blue eyes, but I saw it. And she knows that I saw it. It was like having a dangerous wild animal rush the bars of its cage. No matter that you know that you are safe, you feel that rush of adrenaline and fear nonetheless. For a moment, Dace stares at me, the effect of her strong personality shining even over the video link. Then, it's gone. Like a light switch, she's suddenly quite normal, a sly smile on her pretty face.

"I have enhanced senses, similar to many animals. My sense of smell has been particularly helpful in tracking down sneaky perps. There's a reason the FBI keeps me on the payroll. Sort of, anyway." Before I can ask any questions, Dace glances at her watch and her eyes widen. "Crap! Is that the time? Sorry, gals, but I was killing some time before a meeting and now I'll be lucky to make it on time. Gotta go!"

"Later, Big Cat!" Garcia crows. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

"Unlikely, technomancer, It's been a pleasure, Emily."

To my surprise, my answer is honest and warm. "You too, Dace."

I have a strange feeling it won't be the last time I encounter her.

 

++ Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner ++

(11-19-06)

Drop off the files and go the hell home. That's my entire agenda for the night. Anything else can wait until the morning. This has been an exhausting case, and I just need to spend some time with Haley and Jack.

Stepping into my office, I can feel the difference in the air despite my exhaustion. It takes just a split second to recognize it and, turning to face her in the dimly lit room, I say, "Please tell me you haven't been there for the last four days."

She's sitting there on my couch, box of possessions next to her. "I heard you were flying back tonight."

"Heard? How -- how could you have heard a thing like that?" Even as I ask the question, I already have the answer: Garcia. Who else would break the news to Agent Prentiss? I wonder what else they've been doing together while we were gone, but it'll have to wait until tomorrow to be dealt with.

"This was dropped off today," she says, standing to hand me a case folder.

A quick glance at the file supports my theory that it's one of the cases that Agents Reyes and Bogart were looking at for me. My eyes narrow slightly at the idea of Agent Prentiss having read it. That project connection is still too damned new for us to be sharing it with every department and agent within the FBI.

"I appreciate your interest, agent, but profiling is a specialty. We can't just let anyone who wants to give it a whirl."

"The IAD Killer?" she asks and I can see something in her expression that chases away some of my exhaustion. "Coeds in Indiana?"

"Yes," I reply, curious as to where she's going with this, and begin to flip through the folder. Doesn't matter that this is a different case than we're discussing. I've multitasked on cases before. "I read it on the plane."

"They aren't blitz attacks. This guy's organized. He's a white male, early thirties, and a smooth talker because, even after eleven victims, he can still convince educated women who know there's a predator out there to get into his car."

Pretty much what Gideon and I discussed on the plane on the way back. I wonder how long it took her to come up with this profile. But now it's time to see if she's really got what it takes, or if she just got lucky this time.

"How would you advise the police?"

There's a light that fills Gideon's eyes when he's really into the meat of a profile. Agent Prentiss has that same light right now.

"I would stake out the Ranch House, a nightclub in Gary. They have a popular ladies' night on Thursdays. If you look closely, you'll see that eight out of the eleven victims went missing on Friday mornings, so something gets this creep's motor running on Thursdays." She pauses, and I can see some of the nervous tension building in the set of her shoulders. "This isn't a whirl, Agent Hotchner. I don't know how the paperwork got screwed up, or maybe you believe my parents pulled some strings, which they didn't, by the way. I belong in this unit, and all I'm asking you for is the chance to show you that."

By the time she's done, she's got her hands clasped in front of her. That tension is still in her shoulders, but it's changed somehow. Would any of my other agents -- any agents who want on this team, for that matter -- have staked a claim on my couch to wait for me like this? She's got tenacity and determination, and she's come up with a valid profile for this particular case. Maybe…

"I still need to look into this. I'm not promising anything."

"Understood," she says, and I can see that she's fighting a grin.

"We brief new cases every morning at ten a.m. You can see Facilities Management about a desk."

"You won't be sorry."

She grabs her box, that grin now spread across her face, and heads out of my office. I stand there for a moment, staring after her, folder all but forgotten in my hands.

"Something wrong, Hotch?" Morgan's voice startles me.

"No," I reply quickly, turning to sit at my desk. "Just lost in thought, I guess."

"We're all pretty beat. Go home and get some rest. You deserve it as much as the rest of us do," he says with a grin and leaves after I nod.

Turning on my computer, I check my email, then pick up the phone to make a call. It rings once, twice, a third time before being picked up.

"Reyes."

"Agent Reyes, this is Aaron Hotchner."

"Good evening, Agent Hotchner. What can I do for you?"

Glancing at Agent Prentiss' personnel file, I smile. "Actually, this time I think it's something I may be able to do for you. Do you have a few minutes to talk?"

"Um, give me a minute first," she says, then the phone is slightly muffled, but I can hear her giving instructions to someone else for a moment or two. "Okay, thanks for waiting. Dana's still working in town, so I'm on William duty until she gets home."

"This can wait until the morning if you'd rather."

"Oh no! _Looney Tunes_ and fruit roll-ups go a long way with _mi hijo_. We've got at least an hour before he'll get restless again."

I grin at her explanation, knowing that Haley has done similar with Jack and _Thomas the Tank Engine_ before. The boys must be similar in age, if memory serves correctly.

"This shouldn't take that long." I pause a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. "There is a distinct possibility I may have found the agent you've been looking for."

"Oh? You've definitely got my attention now."

"An agent was apparently transferred into the BAU this last week without my knowledge. I'm looking into the situation, but… Agent Reyes, she stayed here for the last four days while my team and I were off on a case, waiting for me to return to continue to argue her case."

"Really? You sure you want to give her up then?"

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. "I'm not sure. I used to work for her mother on one of my first commands, so I have vague recollections of her, but I'm usually very strict about who joins my team."

She chuckles at that. "Yeah, Mulder's still chomping at the bit to join your team, isn't he?"

"Unfortunately," I reply. "Though I think he's finally gotten the point after that debacle concerning your assistance in January." She snorts at that. "Anyway, this agent has an innate sense of profiling. She's better at it than Mulder, that's for sure. When I came back here, she hit me with a profile and advisory plan for local law enforcement that was nearly letter perfect to what Agent Gideon and I came up with on the plane home."

"Seriously? Then why are you debating letting her go?"

I pause then, trying to formulate the answer to that question. "Because she could, in fact, have the right personality and drive to be a proper liaison between our two teams. And I think this one may actually pass Agent Bogart's strict personality requirements."

"That would be quite a coup for both of us, wouldn't it?"

"I believe so, yes. So, if you're interested, I'll have Garcia send her personnel file to you in the morning."

"Definitely! I'll talk to Dace once I've looked over her file. The sooner we can work together to see how many of your unsubs are actually rogue Sentinels, the sooner we can figure out what to do to help them."

"Wonderful. I'll give you a call in the next few days to see what you think of her. Have a good evening with your son, Agent Reyes."

"You, too, whenever you get home to your family."

Call concluded, I tidy up my desk, do one last look at my email, then shut down my computer for the night. Grabbing my ready bag and briefcase, I head out of my office toward Garcia's lair. I know she won't leave until her team is all safely returned and headed home themselves. Knocking on her door, I wait for her reply to enter.

"Hotch! What are you doing here?" she asks, turning to face me as I walk in.

"I'm on my way home, as you should be," I reply with a stern look.

"Just finishing up a couple of things before I go."

"Good. When you come in tomorrow morning, I'd like you to send a copy of the personnel file for Agent Emily Prentiss to Agent Reyes."

Her eyes widen slightly at the mention of Agent Prentiss' name. It would seem my earlier supposition was correct. "Oh, okay. Sure, I can do that in the morning. First thing, in fact."

"Thank you." I turn as if to leave, then pause in the doorway. "And the next time you decide to adopt a new agent into the family, please inform me first. Are we understood?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir, but she looked so lost in your office."

I grin, knowing she can't see it. She's far too maternal for this team for my taste, but she's exactly what they need. "I'm sure she did, but you can't go breaking protocols for every stray you find."

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

"Good night, Garcia."


	2. Lessons Learned

++ Aaron Hotchner ++

(11-20-06)

Pausing near the doorway to his office, I am fully aware that this isn't exactly going to be an easy conversation, but I have to do it. Taking a deep breath, I knock on Gideon's open door and say, "Hey."

He barely looks up at me as he continues to prepare and pack for the flight down to Guantánamo Bay. "Car here in five minutes. I told Reid."

"I think you should take Prentiss with you to Guantánamo," I say without preamble and watch as he stops in his tracks to stare at me in disbelief.

"Excuse me?"

"She could be of help." And I fully believe that to be the truth. It's just a matter of getting Gideon to see the same line of reasoning I do.

"I don't know enough about her abilities," he says, turning to drop the shirt in his hands into his ready bag. "There's plenty for her to do back here."

"Well, I don't know what she's capable of either, but we've got to find out sooner or later."

When he looks at me again, I resist the urge to frown and stick my tongue out at him. I hate when he gets that particular disapproving, lecturing father look on his face. It reminds me too much of my own childhood.

"It's an interrogation, not a training exercise."

There's a finality to his tone that brooks no dissent from the others. But I'm not the others, and I have a damned good reason for doing this. So why do I feel like a kid trying to wheedle something out of his father when I start explaining myself?

"She's the only member of the team fluent in Arabic."

"Well, there are other translators."

I want to roll my eyes at his stubbornness and shake some sense into him. He's making it more than obvious that he's not happy with her inclusion on the team yet. Hell, I'm still not one hundred percent sure I'm thrilled about it, but it is what it is, and we can't just let her sit down in Garcia's lair all the time.

"Yeah, but they haven't studied behavior." I pause long enough to take a deep breath, and then continue with my ace in the hole. "Jason, I need to know what she can do, what she can handle."

"Why?"

"Because I think Prentiss might actually be the one that Agents Reyes and Bogart have been looking for."

That stops him mid-action and he stares at me. It takes every ounce of my willpower not to laugh at the flummoxed look on his face. "You mean we could finally get that crazy cat lady and her ridiculous man-hating ideas out of our hair?"

"Saying she's a crazy man hater puts your profiling abilities in jeopardy," I reply with a grin. "Agent Bogart has some specific requirements for who she'll work with, just as we do. That doesn't make her ridiculous or crazy, you know that." He grumbles under his breath about nut jobs. "Look, I want you to push her. Do your worst. We need to know what she can handle. Plus, you know Bogart's requirements every bit as much as I do, and you're the best profiler I know--"

"Flattery won't get you anywhere, Aaron."

I continue as if he hasn't spoken. "I need your professional opinion on whether or not she can handle the team or if she's more suited to the Sentinel project. You know how hard it can be to coordinate with Agent Bogart, especially if we're not completely sure Agent Prentiss is a good fit or not. And without the distractions of this new team, I think you can really put her through her paces to see if it's worth pursuing this any further."

He nods, and I can see the understanding finally dawning in his eyes. "Does she even have a ready bag yet?"

Movement down in the bullpen catches my attention and I watch as Prentiss pulls a black duffel bag from under her desk. "My guess is there isn't much this woman's unprepared for."

Gideon snorts again and I follow as he heads out of his office and down into the bullpen. As he passes both Reid and Prentiss, he growls, "Car leaves in four minutes."

"Yes, sir!" Prentiss says, delight evident on her face.

He continues on, muttering under his breath, Reid following in his wake. After an acknowledging nod of her head to me, Prentiss follows them out. Shaking my head, I take off for Garcia's lair to see if she's sent the file to Agent Reyes yet. Is it wrong that I'm hoping this will work out to the benefit of both of our teams?

++ Monica Reyes ++

"Mon, are you going to actually join us and eat your breakfast?"

Blinking, I look up from the file I've been studying on the monitor and smile sheepishly at Dana. "Sorry, babe, this is just really fas--"

"Fascinating," she finishes smoothly. "I know. But your son has requested family breakfast today."

William reaches for me then, a broad smile lighting his face up. I can never resist his charms. He's far too much like his mama in that respect. Saving the file, but not closing it out, I move to join my family at the table and press kisses to both of their foreheads. Purposely sitting down with my back to the computer, I start piling my plate with food.

" _Lo siento, mi hijo_ ," I reply and make the sign for 'sorry'. Our son will be trilingual, at least, before he's old enough for school. "Totally my fault for getting all interested in this new puzzle from Agent Hotchner."

"Silly _Mami_ ," William crows, then stuffs a piece of mushy, syrup-laden pancake into his mouth.

"I agree, handsome," Dana says, something flashing in her eyes that I can't quite read. "It's not every day that Mama stays home with her family."

That perks me up. "You're staying home today? But I thought--"

"Al's back from vacation as of the start of graveyard tonight. Everybody goes back to their normal shifts, and they don't need me as relief for anyone. And Kerry all but forbade me to come in today."

"But today is William's play date with Jimmy over at Alex and Olivia's place." Dana just nods and that curious flash in her eyes happens again. And then it hits me. "And I should probably not plan on doing much work today then?"

"Good to see you catching up, _amante_ ," she says with a smirk. "Now eat your breakfast."

"Yes, ma'am."

The happy domesticity settles around me like a favorite comforter, and I actually am able to set aside the personnel file from Agent Hotchner. The only sounds for several moments are of the three of us eating our breakfast. Dana's outdone herself again with pancakes, sausage patties, homemade applesauce, and cornbread muffins. Even the coffee is the special, no-touchy-under-penalty-of-death blend that she uses for special occasions and double shifts.

As we're finishing up the post-carnage clean up, there's a knock at the door. Dana heads into the bathroom with William as I call out, "Come on in."

I'm temporarily blinded by the sunlight from outside and can only see the silhouette for a moment: all lean muscle and fluffy hair, with that classic Peter Pan stance. It can only be one person standing there.

"G'morning, Mon!" Dace crows in a far-too-cheerful voice and glances around behind me. "Where's my favorite little Scully hiding?"

"We're both in the bathroom," Dana calls out. "And don't you dare try to come in here. William needs his bath."

"I've been sent to retrieve him when he's ready," Dace replies. "Liv and Alex are running a little behind this morning."

I chuckle knowingly and get the dishwasher ready to go as soon as Dana's done in the bathroom. "I know how that goes."

Dace suddenly lets out a low wolf whistle and comments, "She look familiar. And it's not like me to forget a hottie."

I turn around to see her staring at the file on my computer. "Agent Emily Prentiss. Agent Hotchner had Garcia sent me her file this morning. He seems to think she might fit your stringent requirements."

"So her last name is Prentiss," she muses, turning to smirk at me as I walk over to eye her suspiciously. When I nod, she laughs. "I've already met her. And she's definitely kinda hot."

"You have? When?"

"Well, sort of. I talked to her Saturday afternoon when I called Garcia."

"You called Garcia?" Why is it that I'm always left out of the loop on things like this? "What happened?"

Dace shrugs nonchalantly and settles into the chair to start scanning the file. "I was bored and waiting for a meeting to start. I just got this itch to call and shoot the shit, and flirt with her, of course. This Prentiss woman was there with her."

"I will never get used to that damned coincidence thing you Sentinels have," I mutter, knowing she can hear me. Her delighted chortling is proof that she has. "Well, did you like her?"

"Did I not just say she's a hottie?"

"Besides that, you horn dog!" Rolling my eyes, I lean over her to manipulate the mouse toward a section of the file that I want her to look at. "Her background looks solid, of course. As the daughter of a diplomat, I'm sure she's got a lot of experience in smoothing over pretty much any situation."

"I want to read this later and make a few reference calls," Dace says, dropping the joviality to suddenly be all business. I start to protest, but she stops me with a hand held up. "I know the FBI does a pretty damned thorough background check, but these are my kids and my family's kids at stake, not to mention the special circumstances surrounding Alexis. I don't want to miss anything and put any of them under any kind of undue stress, Mon."

"So you're saying you're willing to give her a shot then?" When she nods, I grin. "Good. I was hoping you'd like her. I can call Agent Hotchner and let him know that we're interested in meeting with her at our earliest mutual opportunity."

"So why does he want to get rid of her?"

"Apparently the transfer was approved without his knowledge," I say with a shrug. "And you know as well as I do that he's pretty damned picky about his team."

"Sounds familiar," she replies dryly.

++ Supervisory Special Agent Jason Gideon ++

She's trying her damnedest not to blurt out some inane question, but I know she's going to break sooner or later. It's a long trip to Guantánamo Bay, after all. But I'm not going to coddle her or offer the opening. I'll just bide my time beating Reid at chess. And pointedly not meeting her gaze. That would offer her the same opening that I won't readily give her.

If she can't be assertive enough to ask what she wants to ask, then she has no place on this team or on Agent Bogart's team.

"Excuse me, sir?" There we go. "I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate--"

"Do not thank me."

"Sir?" she asks curiously.

"It's not a favor."

From the corner of my eye, I can see her nod briefly. "Of course, I know that. I--"

"You're coming to do a job," I say, continuing as if she didn't speak, but still don't look at her.

"Do you think the interrogation with Jind Allah will work in time?" Reid asks.

"Interrogation is the most dynamic form of profiling."

"That's not an answer," Prentiss says with a hint of defiance in her tone, and I have to stare at her for a moment. "Sir."

"He's been locked away in Gitmo," I say, and start to lay out the plan for our job. "He didn't know we raided the cell sect house. That's an advantage for us. The main thing is to get him talking about anything. Let his language and body movements betray him."

Prentiss nods slightly, and I know she's soaking up this information like a sponge. Reid should know this information already, and I feel sorry for him having to be spoon-fed like this, but if I'm supposed to be pushing Prentiss, I might as well go all the way. As Reid picks up his next piece to make a move, I formulate my game plan.

"It's like this. You just focus on how your opponent holds his piece, how quickly and firmly he places it, and then you watch his face and body. They'll telegraph a player's strategy, his training, give his motivations."

"Is that what you need us to do?" she asks, leaning forward.

"No," I reply, looking at her. "I need you to listen. You're fluent in Arabic. I won't know the nuances like you. Every word, every phrase. Be on the lookout for subtext, ulterior meanings…"

Reid jumps into the conversation again. "What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to watch for tells, nonverbals, micro-expressions. Watch him when he's comfortable and relaxed, and note the behavioral changes when he's under stress. If we can establish a baseline, we'll be able to read him once I challenge his belief systems. Before I can get him to give up where or how they'll attack, I'll first have to push him to reveal something about himself."

Prentiss appears to be taking everything I say to heart. Well, I'll give her credit for following directions, but we'll have to wait and see what she does in the field. If this doesn't work out, I'll never forgive Hotch. If it does work out, I'll never live it down.

++ Emily Prentiss ++

(11-21-06)

There's something I'm missing here. I can feel it, but I can't quite put my finger on it yet. I want to ask, but I won't. I know they're testing me somehow and if I ask the wrong question, I'll be transferred out of the BAU. I don't want that any more than I want my mother pulling strings to get me a cushy government desk job.

I'll find the answer, I know I will. Or I'll find the right way to ask the question. I didn't get recruited by the CIA and Interpol because I'm an idiot, after all. If I could profile Ian Doyle, I can profile anyone the BAU can throw at me.

Glancing at the clock, I can see that Gideon's moved up the prayer times again. Jind Allah has no clue what is being done to him. All he cares about is the fact that he's no longer being tortured by those idiot CIA thugs. I've never understood that line of thought anyway. Stop violence with more violence? Terrorize them into giving up information? It makes about as much sense as ice skating on water.

But that's not my call, unfortunately. I'm just glad that Gideon decided to go the faith-friendly route with Jind Allah. I have faith that he'll be able to crack this guy and get the information we need. And with Reid and me backing him up, I know it'll happen in time.

It has to.

+++++

"No, he's currently engaged in his prayers," Gideon says, leaning heavily on the table. "I'll go back in again before he's allowed to bunk down for the night."

"So things are perhaps working in our favor?" Hotch asks over the speakerphone.

"Let's hope so. Garcia, did you find out anything yet on what Reid sent you earlier?"

"Still searching, but I'm getting closer."

Gideon nods and scrubs at his face. "Good. Let us know the minute you find out. We have just over twenty-four hours before these guys strike and we're no closer to finding out the location than we were when we started."

"Yes, sir. Still on it, sir."

And then, the strangest thing happens. It's like the whole atmosphere of this call does a strange ninety degree turn, like the plane did just before we landed. Interestingly enough, Gideon's own body language reflects that same change. What the hell?

"Before we go, Hotch, I just wanted to let you know that I'm working that other case in the back of my head."

"I know I don't have to tell you to be careful of letting it overshadow this one."

"Please don't," Gideon replies, glancing at his watch. "I think your assessment is pretty bang on, but we're going to have to keep an eye on things as it could still go either way."

"Well, you know I value your judgment, and I'll work with your recommendations."

"I know. We'll call you later if something has changed here. Garcia--"

"You'll be the first call I make when I find something out, Gideon!"

"Good."

And then, the call's over. And I've got this unsettling feeling in the pit of my stomach that there was more going on than there should have been. And that it was about me.

Now I'm even more nervous about screwing up on this case.

++ Jason Gideon ++

(11-22-06)

The return trip to Quantico feels far less tense and claustrophobic than the trip down to Gitmo, that's for sure. Finding out about Hotch's wife and son hit me harder than I'd have expected it to, and I really just want to get back to make sure that he takes some time to be with his family. Until then, I'll pass the time playing chess with Reid and trying to figure out how to approach the conversation with Prentiss that Hotch has laid squarely on my shoulders. I'll get him for that eventually.

"When did you know you were gonna have to trick him?" Prentiss asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"The first time I talked to him."

"You realized you couldn't break him?" She's smart, I'll give her that.

"Well, I realized he was too smart to have had that Nextel phone registered to him accidentally. He drew us there. He wanted our presence in Gitmo, to confirm he was successful."

She smiles then and nods. "And that's when you started moving up the time of his prayers."

I let a small smile tug at the corners of my lips. "If I'd used an actual clock, he might have caught on."

"So it was all a chess game," Reid says, bringing things full circle to our conversation on the way down to Gitmo two days ago.

"We won this round, but you heard him. Jihad never ends." Moving my queen, I smile again. "Mate."

Reid throws up his hands in defeat. "I quit. Yield. Surrender." He stands up, tugging his bag close to his body again. "Actually, I'm gonna take a nap."

He wanders over to the couches further back in the plane as I start to set up the board again.

"Prentiss?"

"Sir?"

I glance over at her, motioning to the seat Reid so recently vacated. "You play?"

"Yes, sir, I play," she says, moving to join me.

I'm curious to see what she can do with this game, considering how she'd pegged my strategy in that last game with Reid on the flight down. We play in silence for several moments. When I no longer hear Reid moving about to get comfortable on the couch, I take a moment to gather my thoughts.

"So, Prentiss -- Emily, what do you know about the Sentinel Project?"

"Sir?"

I look up at her, study her face for a long moment. The kid's got a great poker face. "Don't play games with me. Hotch already told me that you read the file that Agents Reyes and Bogart had looked at. And then there's the fact that Garcia's phone logs show a call from Agent Bogart while you were playing besties down in her office last week. What do you know about the Sentinel Project?"

"I--" She breaks eye contact first, clears her throat, then meets my gaze again. "If I've done something wrong, I'd like to know the accusation before I'm tried and convicted."

Good. She's got some fire. But we knew that already by the fact that she camped out with Garcia for four days, waiting for us to return. Now, she needs to be pushed just a little more.

"It's a simple question, Agent Prentiss. What do you know about the Sentinel Project?"

She worries at her lower lip for a moment as she makes her next move, sacrificing a pawn. "All I know is that it's some sort of special FBI project located out in Nevada. It's pretty hush-hush from what I understand, and it requires a certain level of clearance to access its files."

"And have you accessed its files?"

"I resent your implications--"

"I'm not implying anything. I'm simply asking you a question."

"No, sir, I haven't accessed the files. I don't know what it is or how it would even relate to the BAU."

"Good," I reply, nodding and make my own move, taking the pawn she sacrificed. "And what did you think of Agent Bogart?"

"I don't know who you're talking about. Nobody came down to Garcia's lair while I was there, and I mostly heard conversations between Garcia and members of the BAU." She pauses, eyebrows knitting together in concentration. "I mean, there was that one call that Garcia got from some woman flirting outrageously with her, but I don't remember a whole lot about it."

"The woman outrageously flirting with Garcia was Agent Candace Bogart," I say, mentally reminding myself to have a little talk with Garcia about non-business calls during business hours. Or maybe I need to have Agent Reyes talk to that crazy cat lady about it. "She is an FBI agent primarily in name only. That's because the badge just makes things a little easier to smooth over any ruffled feathers when she gets involved in cases."

"I'm not sure--"

"The Sentinel Project started as a special task force set up by President Bartlet and the First Lady. It studies a group of genetically enhanced people and how they interact with the world at large. The BAU liaises with this team on some of our cases, particularly where the unsub may be what they call a rogue Sentinel."

"Rogue Sentinel?"

"Certain circumstances can drive them to madness, not unlike a rabid animal. Despite the madness being entirely out of their control, it makes them dangerous in ways that are difficult to comprehend."

"So, the quicker they can be identified the better."

"Exactly."

"How does this concern me? I mean, I probably didn't say more than a couple dozen words to her."

"I know," I reply, nodding. "Agent Reyes and Hotch both seem to think that it would be beneficial to the BAU if we were able to profile a couple of the active Sentinels they know of."

"Because having a profile of them will help identify the unsubs that may be rogues?" she asks, more to herself than me. Good, I like the way she's going with this. Damn it, Aaron really did have this whole situation pegged from the start.

"Exactly. But Agent Bogart and one of their other Sentinels have very particular rules about who they'll allow to do the profiling."

Emily has leaned back in her seat in a casual bid for some personal space that I'm willing to give her for a moment. Dark eyes thoughtful, she unconsciously tucks her left thumb against her teeth, rubbing it against her incisors. I'm flattered to see the nervous tic. Profilers are not the types to show them outside of trusted circles.

"And you think I might pass their rules?"

"It's a distinct possibility."

The dark eyes are calm and focused, no emotion in their depths. I revise my earlier internal comment and grudgingly admit that she has a terrific poker face. No expression that deadpan should so clearly convey, 'and?'

My small chuckle is not feigned.

"Agent Bogart is the dominant of their members and has difficulty" -- the small stress on that word is not lost on Emily -- "working with males. She finds us distracting in an unappealing way. Something about the way we smell."

For a moment her expression remains utterly passive before the corners of her mouth turn up and the dark eyes twinkle in amusement. My long suffering expression finally makes her chuckle, a soft sound deep her throat.

"Well, she did remark about having enhanced senses."

Oh yes, she'll fit in just fine with that crazy bunch in Las Vegas.

++ Emily Prentiss ++

For the first time since meeting this man, I feel we're in complete accord for the moment. Particularly when he mimics my relaxed pose in his seat. Minus my damnable nervous fetish with my stupid nails, of course.

"You have more questions."

Of course I have questions! Before popping off like some sort of overeager probationary agent though, I take a moment to organize my thoughts. "You've indicated several times that there are many of them."

"Well, many may be an overstatement. There are several children in Las Vegas under Bogart's tutelage as well as a pair of them in New York, and adults in both Miami and Cascade, Washington. But the really interesting project will be the rogue they have in permanent custody at their facility in Las Vegas."

There it is, the hook dangling in front of me like bait for unwary fish. Despite knowing that I'm being manipulated, I really am intrigued by the information cataloging itself in my mind. "And it's really that rogue that the BAU would like profiled."

"That is certainly an enticing carrot of reward for putting up with the insanity of the Sentinels, yes."

A pause falls between us again, slightly uncomfortable with questions unasked. This is as much a chess game as the rooks and pawns lying forgotten between us. To my astonishment, Gideon breaks first, offering information unasked for. He really must be desperate.

"Some years ago, the lone male Sentinel and the elder among them had a run in with the only rogue that has any control left. She's an accomplished international thief and terrorist that killed Detective Ellison's partner, who was revived at the last moment. The chase led to Peru and an ancient Mayan temple where something happened that somehow broke our rogue. Later, Agent Reyes and her partner tracked Alexis Barnes down in a federal asylum and took her into custody.

"For several years now, Agents Reyes and Scully, as well as others, have been studying and befriending Barnes. But none of them have true profiling skills and indicator trends may not be communicated effectively. That's where you would come in. There have to be things that set the rogues apart from our unsubs. Then we can more effectively use the Sentinels."

Names and history are filed away, some with mental notes on them to get more information at a later date. Like how do Catherine Willows and Fawn Fraiser and Detective Ellison's partner play into all of this? Who are the other Sentinels in those other cities and why do they not work with the BAU? But I have the basic feel of the project now and I'm completely curious.

Abruptly, Gideon nods and leans forward to move a pawn, refocusing my attention. "No need to make any decision. Regardless of our mutual curiosity, nothing will happen without Bogart's invitation."

One more mental note to pay closer attention to Garcia's weird friends, and I turn my attention to the physical game board and away from the purely mental.

"So we wait for her to make her move?"

Rook to his pawn, and I see Gideon smile in the edge of my vision.

"Exactly."


	3. No Way Out

++ Emily Prentiss++

(01-13-07)

I knock on Hotch's door curiously, wondering what he wants to talk to me about. He waves me in as he finishes a phone call.

"Have a seat." He pauses as I settle in the chair across from him, and I can see the hardness filling his eyes. "I don't appreciate being questioned in front of the other agents."

"It was not my intention," I reply. "I'm sorry."

He stares at me for a moment. "What were you talking to Congresswoman Steyer about the other day?"

Okay, really not sure where this is going now. What the hell were we talking about? "She stopped by to say hello. She worked with my mother, so I've known her since I was a kid."

That stare doesn't waver. "Did you tip her off about this case?"

Wait, what? Keep your game face on, Emily. Never let them see you blink. "No."

"This team can't function if I don't trust the people on it," he says, continuing as if I haven't even answered him. Internally, I bristle, but the surface is calm and glassy.

"Sir, if I touched a nerve out there today, I'm sorry, but I don't deserve this."

"You mysteriously showed up at the BAU after one of my team members was involved in a questionable shooting."

"Right." I chew my lower lip for a moment, considering my next move. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"I expect it at all times, Agent Prentiss."

"Okay, good." I pause long enough to take a deep breath. "Are you kidding me with this line of questioning? I'm being branded as what? A snitch? A mole? What was all that stuff about me being a possibility for this Sentinel Project? Or was that just some kind of test to see if I really wanted to be a part of this team? I mean, it's not like anything has really happened since we had that teleconference with Agents Reyes and Bogart almost a month ago."

He blinks, clearly surprised by what I'm saying. Good to know that he doesn't like being broadsided any more than I do.

"You've done good work. I'm not questioning that. As for the Sentinel Project, that's strictly up to Agents Reyes and Bogart. But let me be clear that I will not put up with a political agenda."

I can't help but stare at him for a moment. Political agenda? Really?

"My mother's a career politician. You worked with her. Did you like her?"

"She's an impressive woman." Nice, safe answer.

I don't even both to cover the harsh snort of laughter. Screw the calm exterior. "Well, I think politics makes people distrustful. I think it makes them hate themselves. I think it tears families apart and damages people. So, if there's nothing else to discuss here, I would like to get back out on the street and find out who's killing these women."

I don't even wait for his reply, storming out of his office. How dare he accuse me of something that is so clearly not the case? What kind of profiler is he if that's what he thinks of me?

++ Candace "Dace" Bogart ++

Five years.

Damn hard to believe that it's been so long. The nightmares are rare now, no longer am I regularly plagued by the memory of the rogue Sentinel that tried to kill me. A man that the BAU would classify as a serial killer.

It barely registers that I'm stroking the scar on my forehead, as the motion has become reflex over time. The piercing bisecting scar and eyebrow alike is a constant adornment to not just my physical looks, but my memories as well. If it hadn't been for Catherine's quick reflexes in killing that bastard, Snake-Eyes, and the phenomenal work of the doctors and surgeons at Cook County Hospital, I wouldn't be having this little celebration today.

The morbidity comes less and less with time, but this yearly marker of time always brings it close to home.

"Hey." Her voice is a soothing balm to my raw nerves, and I drop my hand to give her my attention. How beautiful she is, how strong. "What's got you so quiet today?" The gentle tone is more about me hearing her voice, not the actual words. We both are fully aware what is bothering us both.

"Just a skull full of what-ifs," I finally say.

Catherine moves closer and stretches up to press a kiss along that scar, before stroking it soothingly with gentle fingertips. "Be happy that you can have a skull full of what-ifs." Sweet kisses on my closed eyelids warm my heart and pull at the corners of my mouth. "And when you're done with that, remember that I'm still here with you." Now she kisses the tip of my nose. "And when you've contemplated that, you can remember everything we've accomplished in the last five years together, including our gorgeous kids." Shifting again, she nips at my lower lip. "And finally, I want you to remember just how much I've come to adore you and need you in my life over the last five years. Not gonna let you go, Candace Bogart, not without one hell of a fight."

That warmth and sass has done its job, warming me completely and chasing away the ghosts of our past together. So I loose my loving grin on my Catherine and pull her close for tender kisses, basking in her presence. The specter of Snake-Eyes and his reign of terror over my life once more fades away, once more residing in its dark little box.

"What would I do without you, Cath?"

"Flounder in anger and denial, lost and adrift from the family that loves you." There's a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips, belying the dark emotions swirling in her pale eyes. She blinks once, twice, eyes bright with unshed tears, and then whispers, "Don't you dare ever scare me like that again, Dace. My heart couldn't take it."

Now it's my turn to comfort her, and I squeeze her smaller body until she squeaks breathlessly for mercy. Sniffing at her hair, her ears, nuzzling the fair skin, I once more, as I have done a million times, reinforce my bond to her, my heart, my sanity, my dearest love.

"Not while I can prevent it, sweetheart. I have way too much to live for."

With the high emotion of the day, we settle into a long, quiet cuddle, looking out over the desert that is our home. We've taken the day off from everything, work, kids, extended family. This is our day, a time to regroup and be grateful for one another and our life together.

But, eventually peace turns to activity and I stir and yawn around our near-doze. With a few words, we break for the mundanities of lunch, taking our sandwiches and salads to the porch to enjoy the cool day.

"Have you heard from the BAU?"

It skirts the line of a 'no work' day, but I give Cath a dry look and answer. "No. but I have a feeling that I will soon."

No one that spends any time around me argues with the weird 'sixth sense' I share with the other females of my kind. The strange, near precognitive flashes we get are rarely wrong and the odd coincidences that often shape my life a part of that.

And things will definitely be changing again soon.

++ Monica Reyes ++

(01-17-07)

"That call better be an emergency," Dana mutters, pulling the covers up over her head.

Groaning in agreement, I awkwardly roll over and grab for my cell to squint at the caller ID. Registering what it says takes longer than it probably should. "Reyes."

"Agent Reyes, this is Aaron Hotchner. I apologize for what is probably an early call for you."

"S'okay," I reply and scrub at my face with my free hand. "What can I do for you, Agent Hotchner?"

"I need your help. More specifically, I need Agent Bogart's help."

Okay, that's got me awake and sitting up quickly, jostling a grumbling Dana in the process. "You have my undivided attention."

As he explains the situation with their case up in Golconda, I head out toward the living room and the computer. I don't even know where the hell Golconda, Nevada, is, let alone how long it would take us to get there. I can hear Dana shuffling into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee; even she can tell that our day of sleeping in has been utterly kiboshed at this point.

Opening my email, I see the file that he's sent and begin to skim over its contents. Before I can do more than acknowledge that I'm doing so, there's a knock at the door, then it opens a few seconds later to let early morning sunlight stream in past the silhouette of Dace's form. Shaking my head, I just motion her in with a hand.

"Hold on a minute, Agent Hotchner," I say and she comes closer. "Let me put this on speaker. Dace just showed up at my door."

As I click the key, Hotchner's words continue. "--morning, Agent Bogart."

Dace tries to smother a chuckle -- and mostly succeeds -- and says, "And to you. How can I help you today?"

He launches into a rehash of the conversation he and I have already had, then asks, "How soon can you and your partner get up to Golconda?"

Dace fingers her piercing, smiling as Dana brings over two cups of coffee for us. "I can use one of the Hearts' private jets and get there whenever you need me to get there. Probably be just a couple hour flight, tops. It's more a matter of making sure Cath can get away to join me." And then she goes silent for a moment, and I can see the wheels turning in her head. "So just how bad is this situation?"

"We're not sure yet. As far as I can tell, it's just the single incident, but I thought this might be a good way for you to finally interact with Agent Prentiss in person."

Dace nods, then shakes her head briefly. "That makes sense. I think I’ll bring Emily and Fawn with me."

Dana sucks in a startled breath at that, and I can't help but stare at Dace myself. The blue eyes are calm and calculating, instantly calming me. Dace would not put those girls in danger and they do need some exposure to the grittier side of their destiny.

"I'm not sure--"

"Agent Hotchner, you have to remember that I'm not the only Sentinel here that you can work with. Emily is nearly ten years old and needs to start interacting with your department more, particularly since she hasn't so far had any of the hang-ups I have about working with men. I'll have her parents' permission to bring her with me, and I think she'll surprise you. LVPD's used her on a couple of minor cases already, just to give her some experience."

There's a long pause on the other end of the line, punctuated only by the scratching of pen against paper. A slight smirk softens Dace's expression; clearly, she feels she's won this particular battle. And, despite obvious misgivings from all parties, she's absolutely right.

"Agent Hotchner," Dana asks, startling me, "would it be more acceptable to you if Monica came along with Dace, Catherine, and the girls? In an official Handler capacity only, particularly for the girls, but otherwise not related to the case?"

"Given the still tenuous nature of our two teams' alliance, I think that would be beneficial," he replies. The sound of Agent Gideon's voice comes in the background, muffled by distance. "I'm going to have to go now so I can brief the team. We leave in about ninety minutes and should be touching down in Yerington around five p.m. local time, and then it should be roughly a twenty minute drive from there."

"Consider it done," I say, wincing at the tight smile on Dana's face. "We'll contact you as soon as we have the plane secured to head up there."

"Please do. I'll arrange for one of the SUVs to be waiting for you when you do. Goodbye, ladies."

++ Fawn Fraiser ++

I feel so very grown up right now. We're riding in an actual FBI vehicle! And we got to ride in Gramma Stasia's super special private jet. The one that normally only she and Tessa use. I kind of wanted to sleep in their bedroom on the plane, but this is an important case and I don't want anyone thinking I'm a baby that needs a nap. Won't Cubby be jealous when he finds out what Emily and I get to do?

"Okay, girls," Monica says, "we're almost in Golconda. We're all going to head over to the sheriff's office first to coordinate with Agent Hotchner and his team. Do either of you need anything before we do that?"

"I'm kinda hungry," I reply, torn between being honest and being grown-up.

"I'm sure there's a grocery store we can stop at for some snacks. Do you need anything, Emily?"

When she doesn't answer right away, I glance over at Emily, who is staring out the window. Without thinking, I poke her in the ribs to see if she's zoning out or just enjoying this yucky desert scenery. She bats at my hand, but doesn't look away.

"Elder Monkey!"

Uncle Dace leans close over the back of the seat and flicks Emily's ear. That gets her to move, whipping around as fast as a snake to glare at Uncle Dace. Emily never wins their staring contests. I don't know why she even tries.

"What?" she snaps, then clears her throat at the soft warning growl, cheeks turning pink. "Sorry, Uncle Dace. I was just listening to the voices out there."

Dace frowns at that. The grownups all worry about Emily and the voices, even if they don't say anything about it. Even the Monkey Twins don't have that ability to talk to the ghosts yet. Dace reaches out and touches a fingertip between Emily's eyes for a few seconds. She only removes it when Emily sighs and relaxes again.

"They saying anything of importance?" she asks softly.

Emily shakes her head. "No, just looking for someone to listen to them mostly. They don't get a lot of people out here that can hear them."

"Okay. So Monica wanted to know if you needed anything, Em. We're almost there and will need to get started as soon as we catch up with Agent Hotchner and his team."

"Just a bathroom break and some water, I think," she replies, then turns back toward the window.

"Em?"

"Yes, Uncle Dace?"

"Don't get too caught up in their stories, okay?"

Emily nods. "Maybe some carrot sticks?"

Monica smiles and pats Emily's hand. "We'll see what we can find for you, Emily."

"Thank you."

++ Dace Bogart ++

This place really is in the middle of nowhere, isn't it? No matter. We're here to do a job, not go sight-seeing. And as long as Fawn and I can keep Emily from getting too distracted by the voices of the ghosts that talk to her so effortlessly, I think we'll be okay.

Mon's call to Hotchner has us now pulling up in front of the sheriff's office. Mon and the girls will stay here, since this is where Prentiss is. Once they're settled, Cath and I will probably head out to where Hotchner and Morgan are, to see if we can figure out anything more at the scene.

The Mohave Desert smells similar no matter where I tread her sands and stone. There's an artificial water source nearby, servicing the small community I assume. The stink of sweat and smoke and fear hangs about the air here at the sheriff's station, nothing unusual there. Taking note of the stimuli, I file it away in case it might be useful to catch whatever monster we're all after this time. Wisps of scent, familiar amidst what I don't know here, leads me into the dimly lit building. Doctor Reid I know, as well as the smells of his team, but not the deputy struggling with a woman prisoner. Mixed in with that broken woman's smell is the slender, competent Agent Prentiss, looking snappy in her business casual.

Something has fallen from the prisoner's hand, clattering to the dingy floor with an odd ring to the sound. Emily darts forward to grab the object before I can get a good look at it, holding it out to the struggling woman. Only when Agent Prentiss says, "It's a whistle. It's not dangerous," does the guard allow the prisoner to take the item from Emily's outstretched hand.

"Thank you," the woman says with real feeling, quickly hugging the tall child before she's taken back toward what I assume is their holding area.

My cop's instincts wanted to rush over and protect this child of my tribe, but the cat knows the stranger is harmless. Despite the fact that her unusual little treasure is a human rib bone. I'd bet my tats on it. I'm guessing this has something to do with the woman being in custody.  
My rolling my eyes at the Captain Obvious moment makes Cath quirk an eyebrow at me and grin when I shrug and look sheepish. Bet she recognized it, too.

"A psycho with a whistle," Doctor Reid says. "That's not too weird."

"I'm surprised at you, Doctor Reid," I rebuke mildly, making our presence known at last. "Using such disparaging words when you don't even know the woman's situation."

The young man turns, his expression curious and faintly taken aback, mouth open to retort my unexpected statement. As is most people's custom, he pauses as instinct and intellect war over how to react to me. The usual then. It's a shame really, that he has decided to dislike me, though I can't blame him. Between intimidating him, ruffling instincts I don't think he's fully aware of, and Gideon's dislike, it's understandable.

Gratefully, Reid's gaze jerks away from me to latch onto Monica, where she's gotten our visitor's badges. "Ah, Agent Reyes. You and your team made it."

Before any of us can say anything else, Emily boldly walks over to the pair of them and sticks out her hand at Prentiss. "Hi, my name is Emily Farazell-Taylor. You must be one of the FBI agents we're here to help."

Prentiss stares first at Reid, then at me, before she turns a brilliant smile on my niece and accepts the handshake. "Well, hello there, Emily. My name is Emily, too, Emily Prentiss. And this is Doctor Spencer Reid, one of my colleagues. It's nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you, too. Monica and Uncle Dace have told me about your team and how we'll try to help all of you."

Prentiss looks up at me, curiosity and confusion warring for dominance in her expression. Intelligence and competence radiates from the dark, earthy brown eyes as we take each other in for a moment. Not so much as a flinch from this first meeting of eyes, excellent. If a stranger can't pass this first test, any others are meaningless. Even better, she has the nerve to smirk at me, the faintest quirk of her mouth and eyes that most would never catch. "Uncle Dace?"

Sassy. I like that. Shrugging, I smile at my niece, including her new pal in the expression. "Hey, a kid can only have so many aunties," I explain and stride forward to offer a hand. Warm and dry and with even pressure, her handshake matches the personality I see discrete in her frank gaze. "Pleasure to finally meet you in person, Agent Prentiss. Good to see you again, Doctor Reid."

The boy mumbles something polite, but clearly would rather be anywhere else. Oh, the drama.

Monica hands out visitor's passes we need to wear. I can understand it for the girls, but all of us Feds? That seems a little strange, but whatever, I'll follow local protocol. As soon as we've all clipped on our badges, I herd my little group toward my niece and the two agents to continue introductions. Catherine and Monica go through the motions we all know so well while I watch how Fawn is reacting to all of this. At the moment she seems more engrossed with being faintly grossed out by the dingy surroundings than being introduced last.

"Nice to meet you both," Prentiss finishes up with us grown ups before turning that sharp regard to young Fawn. Sensing the regard, the youngest focuses, taking the offered hand. "And I'm guessing that you would be Fawn Fraiser, Emily's Guide, right?"

Nodding, Fawn scrutinizes her, every bit as critical as me. Perhaps more so. "You did your homework."

The near-challenging deadpan clearly takes Prentiss aback, but it's only the faintest flicker of reaction. "Well, most of this job is homework. Chasing down the bad guys is usually only the excitement at the end. I've been doing a lot of reading up on you and the others."

For a moment, the challenge goes on and I love seeing the girl's instincts in action. Whether Prentiss passes muster is far more important to the children... and Alexis.

With some internal question answered, Fawn is all smiles and shakes the larger hand caught in hers vigorously. Excellent. Fawn is not nearly as open and trusting as Emily is, so this reaction means Agent Prentiss has definitely passed test two.

"Nice to meet you," Fawn flirts, and she's just a little girl fighting a giggle at being recognized by a stranger.

++ Monica Reyes ++

Well, the initial introductions went relatively smoothly. I can tell that Agents Hotchner and Gideon aren't too thrilled to have a nine- and seven-year-old involved in this case, but Dace is right. They have a perfect opportunity to help groom a valuable resource by working with Emily now. Eventually they'll figure it out.

Fawn is working on some math homework that her parents demanded be finished before she gets home. I'm impressed that she's not carrying on about doing it like she sometimes does at home. Then again, she's also doing her very best job to act more mature, so she can continue to do these important trips with Emily.

Emily, on the other hand, has been working on something on the laptop we brought along. The clicking of the keys gets faster, and I can't help but glance over to see what she's working on. There's an expression of profound concentration on her face, the tip of her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth. It would be comical if she was staring at the screen. Instead, her gaze is out toward the front door and the main areas of the sheriff's office.

"Emily?" I ask softly, garnering Fawn's attention, too. When the younger girl goes to poke at Emily, I shake my head. Shifting closer, I look over Emily's shoulder to what she's typing so frenetically.

> _J: Then I felt a presence, and everything went white. I was in a spaceship, and I could see myself. It was like time was suspended. I could feel everything and there were strange maps on the walls, diagrams of all the stars. It was cold, very, very cold. And the alien, he did things to me. He touched me very softly and he stroked my hair. He drew lines all over my body. And the whole time he was standing there, smiling down at me. And then I looked in his eyes. I wasn't afraid anymore. I don't know why._
> 
> _G: Then what did he do?_
> 
> _J: And then I was back in my own bed. It was the next morning._
> 
> _P: How long ago did this happen?_
> 
> _J: I was nineteen. It was thirty years ago._
> 
> _P: And did you ever see him again?_

Her fingers pause on the keys for a few seconds before she starts up again.

> _J: Oh, I see him. I see him every time I shut my eyes._

At this point, she stops again, slumping back against the chair as her eyes close.

"Emily, were you eavesdropping again?" I ask, finally realizing what she's just done.

She blinks once, twice, and guiltily smiles at me. "Sorry, Monica," she finally says, "but I thought it would be important to know what she said, so I could help find the suspect, or whatever the BAU calls them."

I can't really fault her logic, but her methods leave something to be desired. Before I can tell her as much, Agents Gideon and Prentiss, Doctor Reid, and Sheriff Davis come out of the holding area where they've been talking to Jane.

"The strange maps on the walls could have been anatomical drawings," Reid says as they come closer to the table we're sitting at.

Sheriff Davis appears to consider this. "What about the fact that she could see herself?"

Gideon opens his mouth to answer, but the words are not in his voice.

"Mirrored ceiling."

Blinking, I stare at Emily, who has turned around to face the quartet of adults, all of whom are staring back at her. Prentiss is the first to react.

"That makes sense," she says, offering the fleetest of smiles at my young charge, "so his victims could see themselves being dismembered."

"Eww," Fawn mutters and returns to her math.

"Every time I think it can't get any worse, it does."

Gideon studies Emily for another moment as he says, "Her subconscious mind has created a delusion that she was abducted by an alien." He's certainly not giving her the same look that he gives Dace. This can only be a good thing.

"It's possible she's the only one who survived," Prentiss says.

"But why'd he let her go?"

Prentiss starts to answer, then stops and quirks a brow at Emily, who smiles and says, "She said when she looked into his eyes, she felt relaxed."

"In that moment," Gideon says with a nod, "the one thing that he wanted, she didn't give him."

"Fear."

Someone calls out the sheriff's name, and she heads off to take care of the situation as the BAU agents come over to the table we're sitting at.

++ Jason Gideon ++

If the rest of these Sentinels are like this child rather than Agent Bogart, I'll gladly work with any of them. She's precocious, of course, but so is Reid. She just needs some firm guidance to work out her childish rough spots. Time and age will help with that.

The smell of hot coffee hits my nostrils seconds before the cup appears in my vision. Wrapping a hand around its warmth, I nod my acknowledgment and thanks to Hotch, but continue to watch Agent Prentiss interacting with the two girls while their adults and Morgan are out getting dinner for everyone. Their laughter and carefree happiness is so incongruous to the situation at hand, and yet no one is doing anything to stop them.

"Okay, so what else can we work on?" Prentiss' voice carries over to us as she feigns cracking her knuckles.

"Miss Emily, can you help me with my math? Unca Dace is simply awful with math."

Agent Reyes nearly chokes on the coffee she's drinking. "Fawn!"

The younger girl gives her an exasperated look. "Am I wrong, Monica?"

"That's beside the point."

Before Reyes can say anything, Prentiss pulls the girl's chair closer and looks at the math book. Reid could probably help her more, but I can see by the expression on his face that even he knows better than to interrupt this fascinating bonding scene. They put their heads close together and start working on the problems together, Prentiss gesturing animatedly as she explains things.

"She's good with them."

I nod slowly, still watching them. "She is. And I think you were absolutely right about her, Hotch. She's obviously got a bond with these girls already, and from the little I've seen her interacting with Reyes and Bogart, I think she'll be an asset to their project."

"And it means you won't have to directly interact with Agent Bogart as much," Hotch replies, a knowing chuckle warming his tone.

"Well, except for the fact that these are little kids. Hotch, they're younger than Reid when we brought him in. Hell, they're younger than Reid when I first met him."

Hotch nods. "True, but I think they'll be able to handle it, Gideon."

Before I can say anything else, young Emily turns her head to study the two of us for a long moment. There's a flash of gold in her pale blue eyes that I've only seen once before in Bogart's eyes the first time I got in her face. It's a terrifying thing to witness when it's aimed right at you, and this child is one of the sane ones. I can only imagine what it would be like from one of the rogue Sentinels that Bogart and Reyes have mentioned.

"I wish I knew how they did that," I mutter.

"No, you don't because it would mean that they're no longer a puzzle for you to solve."

I scowl, unwilling to admit that he's is right. "Irrelevant, Hotch."

He just chuckles again and motions the girl over. She saves her file on the laptop before coming to join us.

"Yes, Agent Hotchner?" So well-mannered. Her parents should be proud.

"I wanted to ask your opinion on something. Do you mind?"

"No, sir, I don't mind."

Hotch pulls a chair over for her to join us at the desk we've commandeered. She glances back once at her young Guide with a mischievous smile, but says nothing, and the smile is replaced by a more professional mien when she turns back to face us.

"I wanted to thank you for coming along on this case," Hotch says. "Some of your insights so far have been fascinating, especially about Jane's flute. None of us had caught that information."

She allows herself a brief, broad smile at the deserved praise. Hotch is right that none of us caught onto it, especially given that this guy collects rib bones from his victims. She tilts her head and studies us for a moment.

"No one should be separated from their families, Agent Hotchner," she finally says. "If my abilities can help you find his victims before he kills them, that means they can return to their families. That's all that matters to me. Well, and stopping him, of course."

She even knows how to phrase things like someone much older than she is. I'm impressed.

"Agent Gideon, I heard Monica and Agent Prentiss saying that you're going to be trying again tomorrow to find to the man you think did this. Will you be bringing Uncle Dace along to help out?"

That makes me blink. "Well, Emily, we haven't really decided exactly how that's going to happen yet, but I probably will. Agent Bogart has some well-honed tracking skills that may come in handy." I pause and study her a moment. "Or were you thinking of volunteering yourself?"

She shakes her head, red curls dancing around her head. "Oh no, sir. I don't know that I should be anywhere near that man. Emily, I mean Agent Prentiss, says that he's dangerous. I should probably stay here and keep Fawn safe."

I don't bother to hide my smile at that. The girl's loyalty to her Guide is obvious, and now so is her newfound loyalty to Prentiss. "I think that's an admirable reason to stay behind, especially when Agent Bogart can help us out in the field."

"Fawn is my Guide, I have to protect her." So matter-of-fact.

Hotch clears his throat. "One more question for you, Emily, then you can return to Fawn again." When she nods, he says, "I'm not sure if you know that we've been working to find a way for the BAU to work with Agent Reyes and the Sentinel--"

"Is Emily going to help with that?" she asks, excitedly cutting him off, then blushes as she realizes what she's done. "I'm sorry, Agent Hotchner. I just really like Emily and would like to work with her if I could."

"It's all right," he says with a smile. "You've just answered my question. Thank you for coming to speak with us."

"Thank you for including me," she says, then heads back to the table.

"Well, that was rather informative, wasn't it?"

"She's going to be hell on wheels when she gets older," Hotch muses. "But I think it's time we discuss this with her grownups and Agent Prentiss."

As if on cue, Prentiss glances up at us, the question clear in her eyes. When Hotch nods, she smiles and nods in reply before turning back to the girls and whatever it is they're working on together.

Unless Agent Bogart objects, I think we've found our liaison.

++ Emily Prentiss ++

"Are the kids okay, EP?"

Less than twenty-four hours later, and the girl that shares my name has already given me a nickname. I guess I've made a better impression than I thought.

"Yeah, they are," I say with a smile. "A little scared, cold, and hungry, but I think being reunited with their families will take care of any of that."

She nods and stares out the window as the children are each claimed by their families. And then I feel her smaller hand grip mine, and I squeeze back without saying a word.

"Do you think Agent Gideon will find him?" she finally asks, still staring out the window.

"Eventually. Hopefully before he kills again." It's what we all want.

"Thank you for letting me help out where I could, and not treating me like a baby. I appreciate it."

I turn to study her for a moment before she meets my gaze. There's so much seriousness in those pale eyes, more than anyone should have at her young age. And yet, I can see the playful child lurking in the background, the one that teased and coddled Fawn earlier when the younger girl was feeling homesick for her twin brother.

"You're welcome. And you're no baby, Emily. Don't let anyone tell you that you are."

She smiles broadly, then turns her head sharply to stare out the window again before whispering something that I can't quite make out. A quick shake of her head dispels the almost haunted look on her face before she faces me again, eyes briefly flashing golden.

"I'm sorry," she says a bit sheepishly. "The ghosts were thanking me for listening to their stories again. My mom taught me to be polite, so I had to answer them."

When we went out to rescue the kids, Dace mentioned something about Emily and ghosts, but I'd pushed it aside until after we could get the kids back to town safely. Before I realize I'm doing it, the words are out of my mouth.

"Emily, would you be willing to let me come visit you for a week or so? See what it's like for you to be a Sentinel when you're not in a situation like this?"

She cocks her head to the side, just like I've seen Dace do a couple of times now. "And see if Alexis likes you, too?" When I nod, holding my breath, her smile lights up her face. "I would like that very much. You'll love everyone at the Ranch, and I know they'll all like you, too."

I find myself matching her smile and squeeze her hand again. "Then how about we go find Hotch and your grownups and finalize some details? Sound good, Mini-Me?"

"Mini-Me?" she asks with a girlish giggle. "I like it! Let's go!"

"Lead the way," I say, letting her drag me off in search of Dace and Hotch.

Is it wrong that I'm letting that little flare of hope burn brightly that all of this works out? I'm terrified as hell to meet this Alexis Barnes in person, but the thought of being able to profile her and others like her is too strong a temptation for me to resist.

I only hope JJ and the rest of the team will understand why I'm considering what I am right now.

Only time will tell.


End file.
